


Close Enough

by plaguewind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9443861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaguewind/pseuds/plaguewind
Summary: My little fantasy of what happens the day after Sansa rejects Petyr. One Shot. There is smut.





	

Was she imagining it or was Petyr inflicted with a sadness now? She wondered this and many things as they broke their fast together the morning after Jon had been proclaimed King Of The North. They had not intentionally eaten together...both had simply arrived at the same time and neither would acknowledge the awkwardness that now hung in the air between them. Jon had joined them within a few moments and Sansa was relieved though he wasn't much for words either. Most likely he had a lot on his mind as well. 

Petyr, however, usually had quite a bit to say to her and while she had been the one who had pushed him away she found herself feeling intensely empty with the lack of their normal repertoire. Stealing glances at him as he picked at his food, for he always seemed to pick at his food, she found herself wondering why she had never noticed how handsome he was before now. 

Had she been wrong to push him away, her anger over Ramsay getting the best of her? But how could Littlefinger not have known? 

"How long do you plan to stay in the North, Lord Baelish?" Jon asked, breaking the silence. 

"As long as you need my services, Your Grace," Petyr glanced at Sansa for only a moment and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. "I have declared for House Stark."

Jon grunted and returned to his meal. He did not like Petyr, Sansa knew but perhaps they needed him. _Or maybe it is just I who needs him._ The thought made her feel so strange she had to look down and focus on her oats, afraid that if she made eye contact he would see what she was thinking.

Jon ate very quickly and excused himself, leaving Sansa and Petyr alone once again. 

"You are very quiet this morning, my Lady," Petyr said, ending their own personal silence. 

"As are you, my Lord." She noted his use of formality with her. Is this how it would be from now on? Never did she imagine she would miss him, even as he sat just across the table. His grey-green eyes met hers for the first time all morning and Sansa felt a sudden ache in her chest. Was it possible that she had come to care for this man despite all of her mistrust? He had been the only constant thing in her life for some time now, had he not?

"Would you care to join me for a walk in the Gods Wood, Lord Baelish?" The words left her lips before she had time to stop them, almost in desperation. _You are still such a foolish girl at times._

He pursed his lips, something else he did often. When had she begun to memorize his mannerisms? "I regret that I must decline my Lady's invitation. I have letters I must attend to this morning. My apologies." 

"None necessary, my Lord."

He did not ask her to call him Petyr, nor grab her face for a kiss. He simply bowed and excused himself and Sansa was left alone wondering if it was too late. 

************

The air was uncommonly cold against Sansa's face as she walked amongst her favorite trees, even for Winterfell. Winter had finally come, just as her father had always told her and she found herself missing him with a fierceness as she wandered alone on the grounds of her home. 

She sat down on the rock under the Weirwood where she had rejected Petyr the day before. So much had changed since her father used to sit under the same tree, sharpening his blade. Sansa had changed and though she had missed home, if she was honest with herself, it no longer felt the same. The girl whose home it had been was dead and gone, replaced by a stranger with the same face. 

A snapping of twigs to her right pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Petyr much as he had come to her previously, his black cloak snuggly fit to his narrow frame. At once Sansa's spirits lifted, though she had not realized they were down prior. 

"Lord Baelish, you changed your mind?"

He stopped in front of her, one corner of his mouth lifting to _almost_ smile. "My chambers were becoming rather stuffy, I thought I might get some fresh air. Am I still welcome to join you?"

"Yes, of course."

She stood and he offered his arm which she gladly took with her own as they began to walk. Falling into step beside him came very natural to her.

"May I speak candidly with you, Sansa?"

There it was, her name on his lips, which she now realized she most enjoyed. "You always have."

"Yes but I cannot deny the change between us since our conversation that took place in this very spot. Am I wrong to say that we are both guilty of this...distance...that has replaced our formally close relationship?"

"You are not wrong my Lord but I must admit that I have been at a loss for words, having possibly injured you in some way." 

Petyr stopped walking and Sansa worried she had again offended him by presuming she had injured his emotions. In actuality many times she had wondered if he had emotions at all. 

"Sansa," he said, turning to face her, an expression in his eyes she could not read but that in itself wasn't out of the ordinary. "My affections for you have not changed and I remain at your side. Whatever you choose does not matter, I will stay and do my best to recompense for any and all wrong I have done to you. As I told you before, I never meant to hurt you, that was the last thing that I wanted."

She wondered how sincere he was or if it was just another ploy of his, another move to be made in his big game. It was highly uncharacteristic of Petyr to utter words of such devotion but she knew the man was capable of anything necessary to get what he wanted. And what was it had he said that he wanted? The Iron Throne and her. Which did he want more, she wondered, and would he be happy with one and not the other if that _one_ was her?

"I only wish to be at your service in any way that I can help," he added. 

"Even if you must remain as a companion and nothing more? Even if it means supporting Jon as King of the North and Lord of Winterfell?"

"If that is what you wish, then yes."

"Then I thank you, my Lord."

She walked along with him and nothing more of their relationship was spoken of. Sansa still had many questions and many doubts but she felt it best not to jump into those topics too soon. 

She spent the majority of the day with Jon and listened to all those who came to him with their ideas and pledges of loyalty. Many who came before him had few men and little to offer but offered all the same and many more who came were seeking help and protection from their newly appointed King. Sansa could tell Jon was having difficulty taking it all in. Every part of him would make a good leader and yet bearing the weight of so many other's fates on his shoulders was already taking its toll...his inner turmoil visible behind his dark eyes. 

As she excused herself to her own chambers for the night she felt a sense of pitty for Jon accompanied by a slithering snake of jealousy. He was a bastard after all, not the true born son of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Was he more entitled to it than she?

Those thoughts brought Petyr back into her head because they sounded very much like him. Had he warped her mind or seen into her soul? Sansa sat on the edge of her bed...exhausted. She was tired of playing games...of deciding what belonged to who and who had more rights. She just wanted to be happy again.

"I miss him," she whispered aloud to no one. Through everything she had been through...her parents both dead, Robb, and possibly Arya as well...through Ramsay...through all of that she had thought being back at Winterfell, at home, would make her feel warm and happy again. In truth, however, she felt very much out of sorts unless she was with Petyr. 

The urge to see him overtook her and she exited her chambers...Lady Brienne was standing outside on watch as she did every night. 

"I am going for a walk." Sansa told her. "And I do not wish to be accompanied."

"Lady Sansa, I will do whatever you wish but do you not think it dangerous to be alone at this hour?"

Seeing the startled look on the other women's face Sansa was not sure what to do. Brienne only wanted to protect her, maybe it was for the best. "Very well but you must not object whatsoever. When I arrive at my destination you are to wait outside without protest and tell no one of where I went. Only under those conditions may you accompany me."

"As my Lady commands."

Brienne followed Sansa down the dark corridors of the castle, not uttering a single word, that is until they stopped in front of the door to Petyr's chambers. 

"My Lady, you do not mean to go into a man's room in the middle of the night?" Brienne questioned, a look of alarm on her face. "And not this man in particular?"

"Lady Brienne, you were not to object."

"But-" Sansa shook her head and her keeper spoke no more, although Sansa was sure she wanted to. 

Sansa's own heart began to beat a bit faster than was normal as she lifted her hand to knock on his door. With two taps she heard him say "Come in," from the other side. 

"Not a word," she whispered to Brienne before opening the door and stepping inside of Petyr's private chambers. 

It wasn't until she had closed the door behind her that she really looked around. A fire was lit in the hearth, a few candles....it felt strangely bright compared to the dark hallways of the castle Sansa had just left. 

Petyr was standing by his desk wearing only his pants and nothing more, an empty glass in his hand which he had been in the midst of setting down. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks, never having seen him wearing so little. 

"Sansa," he said, part statement and question. "I apologize for my state of undress. I wasn't expecting you. When I heard the knock I expected it was a guard."

"No apologies necessary my Lord. It is I who should apologize for presenting myself unannounced."

The room felt suddenly very hot and Sansa cursed herself internally for such a brazen act. What on earth had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all?

"I should go."

"No." He moved forward suddenly as if to grab her but stopped. "Please. Sit. Do not go."

Sansa found herself lacking in all composure. Where should she sit? At the desk chair? On his bed? Wouldn't that be highly inappropriate? Did it matter, as showing up in a man's room at night was altogether inappropriate?

She wanted to flee, suddenly hating herself for wanting to come in the first place. Deciding it would seem even more strange for her to run away now, she went to the desk where a bottle of wine sat next to his empty glass. Since when did he drink, she wondered, as she poured some for herself using the same glass, and downed it in a hurry. It was supposed to give courage after all, wasn't it?

"Sansa, is everything alright?" 

"Yes. I just needed a drink."

The look in his eyes told her that he did not believe her but he uttered not a word, placing his hands on his narrow waist. Sansa wasn't used to drinking, the alcohol burned her chest and went straight to her head making her feel slightly dizzy. She sat on the side of his bed without a thought. 

A few moments passed and he just stood there, not saying a word. She met his eyes and could not stop her gaze from wandering lower. The scar she had heard of was not as she had imagined...a lightly raised, pink line from his collarbone to his navel. It was not ugly. His body was lean and fit, though grey and black hair littered his chest and stomach, it was not what she expected a man of his age to look like.

"Sansa...?" 

What was she tell him? The truth? That she missed him...missed his kisses even though she hated herself for it? That the more and more she thought about the pretty picture he had painted the better it was beginning to sound, especially the part about her being by his side. 

"Petyr...I...this is difficult. I feel bound to you and I am abhorred by the notion at the same time. You are a monster...a monster that I have come to miss when you are not around and I would have you killed if I didn't fear it would pain me so."

"Sansa-"

"No. Let me finish." He silenced immediately. "You are and have always been a retched creature and yet I find myself feeling lost if you are not by my side. To the point that I have wondered if I myself am a retched creature because who else would be capable of loving one?"

The words were out of her mouth and in the air before she could stop them. Oh God's what had she done? So many things were going through her mind it felt like it was going to explode. She closed her eyes, wishing she had just stayed put in her own bed. A few moments passed before she felt his weight as he sat down on the bed beside her. 

"Sweeting, I can never leave your side. You must know this. I know...with Ramsay...but that was only so you would regain Winterfell and then we could have done away with him. I didn't know, you must believe me when I tell you that I did not know."

She opened her eyes to meet his. "I don't know that I believe anything you say."

"Then why are you here?" His hand moved to her face to brush a strand of hair behind her ear and Sansa felt her heart quicken. 

Why had she missed his touch so much? Why was it the only thing that made her feel alive? Princes and Knights no longer seemed to hold a spell over her anymore...it was only ever Petyr she dreamed of as of late. She had feared she would never want a man to touch her again after Ramsay but somehow with Petyr she wasn't frightened.

This time it was she who leaned forward to press her lips to his and to her own surprise she was not afraid. Not afraid of being alone in a bed with a man...not afraid of what might happen. Petyr _was_ a man after all and surely he desired the same things as other men.

He fully reciprocated her kiss, placing his hands on her face, pulling her closer. It was not like the other times...not chaste and quick. He ran his tongue over her lips and urged her to open for him and she did. It was the first time she had ever tasted a man's tongue and he tasted of mint and wine, quite pleasant actually. 

It was altogether exhilarating...his tongue in her mouth, his hands in her hair. She felt a heat rising in her stomach and the more he kissed her the more it spread until a pleasurable ache had begun to throb between her legs. 

He broke the kiss and Sansa moaned aloud uncontrollably. She was breathless, her head spinning. 

"Sansa?"

"I...I've never felt this way," she stammered. "Is this normal?"

He actually smiled, a rare occurrence indeed. "It's perfectly normal my love. Shall I show you more?"

What was more? Did it matter? This was the most fantastic she had felt in a long time...why stop it? "Yes."

"May I remove all of this burdensome clothing you have on?" For a moment she panicked and surely he seen it written on her face. "Do not fear," he soothed, placing gentle kisses on her forehead. "I only intend to pleasure you and if I hurt you in any way all you need do is tell me and I will stop."

Despite his many lies, in this she believed him. Nodding her assent she helped him remove her robe and gown...until all that remained were her small clothes. His hand dipped between her legs and she felt her cheeks redden as he discovered the damp cloth that covered her most private of areas. 

"You're already wet," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. His words sent a jolt through her stomach and lower. 

"Petyr..."

"Shhh. It's okay..."

With one arm bracing her back, his other hand moved under her small clothes and his fingers began to explore her folds. Sansa cried out when he touched a spot between her legs that sent a wave of pleasure through her entire body like nothing she had ever felt before .

"That's your clit, Sansa," he whispered. His voice had changed. It sounded deeper, huskier. "I would love nothing more than to kiss you there. May I do that?"

It was unheard of. At the very least *she* had never heard of such a thing. But how could she say no when what he was doing with his hands already felt so good. 

"Yes," she managed, for the ministrations of his fingers were making her moan and groan in ways she had only ever heard whores.

He kissed her again, deeply and slowly, all while his fingers continued circling that pleasurable little bud he called her clit. She found herself moaning into his mouth. When he stopped she felt she wanted to plead for him to keep going but he released his support on her back and she collapsed onto the bed. She felt his hands deftly moving to unlace her small clothes and slide them down her legs. Before she had time to feel humiliated at her own nudity he had pushed her legs apart and she felt his mouth on her cunt. 

Sansa gasped as she felt his tongue flick across her clit. This was one act of sex her mother had never told her about and now she wondered why. It was wonderful. Petyr's tongue ran up and down her folds from top to bottom and he stopped only to lightly suck on her clit which was now throbbing. 

Sansa felt like a spring, coiled and ready to be released...her body was aching for something and she wasn't quite sure what it was. The more he licked and sucked the stronger the feeling became.

"Petyr...please" she panted breathlessly. Not sure what she was begging for but sure she was almost there. 

"I need you to come for me sweeting," he whispered before he continued his assault on her clit, the tip of his tongue circling and flicking over and over again. 

Sansa was on the verge of thinking she couldn't possibly take anymore when the pleasure overtook her and erupted. Her body shook with the force of it, waves of pleasure that started where his mouth was and crashed out all the way to her toes. She grabbed Petyr by the hair, instinctively grinding against his face through her orgasm. 

She was breathless, her head full of light and stars as he pulled away her remaining garments covering her breasts. 

"I mean to take you," he said. With heavy eyes she watched him remove his pants, his own arousal standing erect. 

She wasn't scared as he climbed atop her, resting himself between her legs. How could she be? His lips found one of her nipples and she felt her own arousal once again. How could she be scared when he was making her feel so good?

His cock rubbed against her slick folds, thick and heavy, and a part of her remembered the pain of Ramsay but another part of her said that Petyr would not hurt her. 

His lips found hers and they swallowed one another whole...or it felt that way. She felt his hips rock and his cock pressed against her clit, igniting her own fire all over again. 

He broke their kiss and stared at her. She had never seen his eyes look so alive...albeit with lust. Or maybe it wasn't *just* lust? Maybe that's just what she wanted to believe...either way. 

"Tell me you do not want this and I will stop," he said. 

For a moment she wondered if he actually would? Would a man already between the legs of a naked woman be able to stop? A woman who had already unraveled at his hands? This wasn't just any man though...it was Petyr. She almost wanted to tell him to stop just to see...almost. 

She felt his cock pulse against her and couldn't fight the sharp intake of breath. 

"No?" he questioned again, as his hand dipped between them, aligning his member with her entrance. 

"No...don't stop."

With a push he was inside her and Sansa's head fell back against his pillows, a faint cry escaping her lips. 

"Oh Gods," Petyr breathed, his forehead crashing against her shoulder. 

He held her tightly as he moved his hips, slowly at first, in and out of her. 

With every thrust Sansa felt the pleasure build over and over again. The same pleasure as when his mouth was on her but somehow different because he was inside her. Petyr...her Petyr was inside of her.

"Fuck Sweeting, you feel so good," he cooed and his words seemed to intensify her pleasure. 

He was thrusting and moaning and it was all because of her...that thought alone was almost enough to send her over the edge again but she needed a bit more. 

"Faster," she pleaded. "Oh Petyr....please...faster."

He picked up his rythym...Slowly at first but then he was pounding into her. She was moaning and pleading like a wanton and he gave everything he could. 

He got up onto his knees and lifted her legs, the new position allowing him to go even deeper and after a few hard thrusts Sansa lost control. He hit just the right spot to send her reeling over the edge and as her body shook, Petyr grunted loudly and she felt his release inside her. 

They stayed that way for a minute, each catching their breath, until Petyr rolled off her and onto his back and she found herself feeling oddly empty without him inside her. She couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Are you alright, Sweeting?" Petyr asked, turning into his side so that he could look at her. 

"I'm okay. Maybe a little overwhelmed."

He nodded. "I can imagine." Placing a hand on her stomach he bent his head and kissed her nipples, first one and then the other. "You are so beautiful my sweet girl. I feel like we rushed this time but next time I'm going to take more time and worship every inch of your perfect body."

Sansa felt her cheeks blush at his words. She wasn't used to being talk to in such a way. "Next time?"

"Well, unless you do not want there to be a next time," he said, before wrapping his lips fully around her nipple and sucking hard. She couldn't contain her gasp at the shock and thrill it sent through her. 

She wanted there to be a next time, she hoped again before the night was over, the only thing bothering her was what this new physical relationship meant. Would she have to marry him? Would he want to marry her after already having her? Some part of her wanted to marry him, even though he was a dispicable man, she could no longer see herself with a different kind of man. She had been through too much, she was damaged...but to Petyr she was perfect...or he was making her feel that way at least.

"Again," she whispered.

"Right now?" He chuckled. "Do you intend to wear me out until I am unconscious and then kill me?"

"No...I couldn't." She reached for his head and ran her fingers through his hair, something she had never realized she wanted to do. He closed his eyes and rested his head on her chest and for the first time Petyr Baelish looked somewhat vulnerable. He was beautiful, she thought. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, love" he said softly, his eyes still closed. "But I do believe this has crossed the line of mere companions."

Sansa couldn't help it when she started giggling and she found herself unable to stop. Was this what happy felt like? 

Petyr covered her mouth with his own, stifling her laughter, and she draped her arms around his neck. 

It was definitely close enough.


End file.
